


Challenge Three - Tropesmash 2.0

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2015 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Era, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Fuck Or Die, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen goes into heat. Morgana is there to help her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge Three - Tropesmash 2.0

**Author's Note:**

> Tropes smashed: canon/fuck-or-die/praise-kink. The 'omegas die in heat without sex' variant of ABO, with all the dubious consent issues that that entails. But … sweet and loving ABO fuck-or-die? Is that a thing? It's a thing now.

'It certainly feels fresh in here,' says Morgana, sweeping into her chambers with a swirl of skirts. Gwen, hot and uncomfortable in her stifling skirts despite the open windows, does her best to smile.

'Glad you like it,' she says. She's changed the sheets, washed the floors, and she's proud of her work. But it's just _too hot_ in here. Morgana, of course, looks as lovely as ever, poised, perfect, desirable - 

Morgana stills suddenly, and a sharp look crosses her face. 'Gwen,' she says, 'Are you feeling alright?'

Gwen isn't, no. She … she _wants_ , restlessly, but she can't put a name to what it is that she wants. 'I'm … fine, I just. It's very hot today, don't you think?'

Morgana reaches out,, as if she's going to touch Gwen's cheek. 'Sweetling, it's the first day of spring.' Her gaze is making Gwen shiver with heat, and a tingling between her legs that's mortifying. 'You don't know,' Morgana breathes. 'Gwen, beautiful, you're in your heat. You - ' and Morgana takes a step back. 'Tell me that you have an alpha, someone you're seeing in the village? Someone to look after you.'

But Gwen doesn't - her duties in the palace and at home mean she doesn't have time for the alphas that come by the forge occasionally, no matter how good they smell, or how kind they are. She shakes her head. 'I didn't think it would … be so soon.' She'd thought she had years still before this moment. And now … 

'Shhh, listen to me,' says Morgana intently. 'Gwen? Darling, I can help you. Do you hear me? I can help you through your heat. But you have to agree.'

Gwen blinks, until she can see Morgana's face clearly. Her life has been filled with Morgana since Uther Pendragon stalked into Gwen's father's forge and hired her as maid and companion for his teenage ward. But this? Morgana's a lady, and Gwen's just -

'- the person I love most in the world,' Morgana interrupts. 'Let me help you.'

Gwen takes a shaking step and reaches for her mistress. 'You shouldn't.'

'I want to,' says Morgana, folding Gwen into her arms. 

***

Morgana's nails scratch gentle and sharp on Gwen's thighs, where's she's a mess, embarrassingly wet, but Morgana never takes no for an answer, not when she has a quest. 'Be still, sweet,' she breathes, the warmth of her breath tickling Gwen's skin. 'You're being such a good girl for me.'

Gwen's eyes scrunch shut as a wave of feeling wracks her, and her knees stop fighting Morgana's weight between her. 'That's it, you're perfect,' Morgana croons, bending to kiss Gwen right where she's slick. 

Gwen doesn't feel perfect. She's burning up with the worst fever she's ever had, like ants crawling over her skin except the cool-silk feeling where Morgana touches her. Morgana sits up, licking her lips - Gwen cries out. 'Hush, love,' Morgana whispers, leaning up and loosening her bodice. 'Just let me. You're so good for me.' 

The caress of Morgana's palm over Gwen's taut nipple is such a sweet relief. When Morgana kisses it, the wetness between Gwen's legs feels like an ocean. 

'Are you ready for me to knot you?'

_'Please.'_

Morgana presses in, tight, satisfying, until their bellies press together. 'That's it,' she murmurs. She runs her fingers through Gwen's mussed hair, moves her hips. The places they rub together make something light up to the tips of Gwen's fingers. 'That's it, love. That's it.'

'It hurts,' Gwen moans, because it does, the fever is ripping into her now. The only place she feels unbruised and unburnt is where their bodies join. 

'I know, sweetling. I'll make it stop, I swear,' Morgana says, sounding as desperate as Gwen feels, as she fucks deeper into Gwen's hungry body. 'Please, darling, just stay with me,'

'Not … going anywhere,' Gwen pants, hooking her legs around Morgana's hips, trying to pull her in deeper, to quell the need. 

Morgana's eyes shudder closed. Inside Gwen she swells all of a sudden, locking them together, and the dripping wetness between them is an ocean that Gwen crests on a wave, no longer burning with fever but sated, satisfied, with them tied together.

'Perfect,' Morgana breathes.


End file.
